It is Hard Being a Cat

This is my Oliver. When he was a tiny boy, he had to live outside between two fences with his birth mother, Emily. Emily was a very good mother. Emily would only ever have one kitten at a time. She was the mother to both my Oliver and my Nigel. When it was time to have another baby, she would very quickly extricate herself from her oldest child. That is where I came in. Emily had determined that I should take care of Oliver. She brought him over to my patio then, left the infant. Poor child was very small and frightened. He stayed out there by himself for a couple of weeks until I could not take it anymore. I would see him eating birdseed and crackers I had thrown for the birds. When I would open my back door after being at work all day, little Ollie would quickly pop his tiny head up over the fence then, he would come running to his girl. This is Oliver today. I could not resist grabbing his picture today as he lazily looked out the window at his old stomping grounds. Life is very different for him now. He no longer worries about where he is going to sleep or what he is going to eat. He has his very own Cindy now.